


Trying to Call Home

by bookwormally



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 22:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormally/pseuds/bookwormally
Summary: Inspired by 'Payphone'Cronus has made mistakes, not easy ones to apologize for, but he's trying. Whether or not those apologies are accepted is yet to be seen.





	Trying to Call Home

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up.”

Like a mantra, it drops from his lips again and again; prayer in its purest form: desperation.

The rain is constant, thrumming against the roof and the sides of the booth; it gets kicked up in disgusting dirty waves as two more cars go speeding past, their drivers no doubt looking on him in pity or scorn.

He turns his back to the road, tugging the cord around his waist where it cuts into his side, not enough give to go far. No one is walking down this road to stare in from that direction, no one stops here. It’s _dangerous_ here. Anyone could be looking to hurt you.

Don’t pick up hitchhikers, a nearby sign screams in bright warning yellow and he makes a disgusted face before turning back to face the bulky square of the phone. He rests his forehead against the top as it continues to ring, letting the dented metal press a line into his forehead, not so different from the ones already there.

A click _finally_ and then an automated voice, “We’re sorry, but your call could not be connected. Please try again or-.”

He slams the receiver down, half hoping that it breaks so he’ll have accomplished something. It doesn’t and his ass might yet be saved.

Muttering nonsense anger half-formed insults at phone booths and assholes who don’t answer their phones, he riffles through his pocket until he manages to get his hands on the rest of his change. The few coins that he comes up with taunt him in the yellow streetlight.

He gets one more shot, one more try. Is it worth it to try him again?

He stares down at the coins and then clenches his fist around them, letting their edges press indents into his skin.

Who else does he have to call?

He drops each coin in one by one and then dials again.

His prayer and mantra stay in his head this time as he listens to it ring.

The third ring, there’s a click, and a real voice on the other side.

“Do you have any idea what time it is? This better be a real person or I’m contacting your company and finding a way to rip a programmer apart for installing yet another scam calling machine that just wants to profit and abuse the ones who cannot fight back against it. Manipulating the elderly and the uneducated is the most pathetic, _disgusting_ thing that anyone can do with programming skills and I despise its common usage in our society.”

He must be tired because he just about sobs in relief to hear the irritated and clearly tired ranting from the other side of the line. He doesn’t even think to interrupt, letting him go on and on, the words like a waterfall power washing any grime away.

Only when he hears an inhale, does he think to actually say a damn thing. “Not a machine. It’s me, Kan.”

Absolute ringing silence.

He actually pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at it, convinced the silence is the buzz of a disconnected line. He wouldn’t put it past Kankri to just hang up on him.

But when he brings it back to his ear, he hears another inhale.

“Cronus. Why are you calling me?”

Short, sharp, cold; like ice cracking as it crashes together…or the first thaw.

He swallows the lump in his throat. “I…” He needs help, he needs you, he needs…someone to tell him things will be okay, somehow. Kankri’s never been the latter and Cronus can’t demand anything from him now.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” Fuck, is he sorry. He leans on the box again, hoping he cuts another line in his face to match the other two. Maybe it’d be another sign of him getting hit hard enough to learn something.

The words unstick and there are so many more that follow.

“I’m sorry for acting like a complete selfish ass and pushing you about shit that you weren’t interested in. I’m sorry for fucking off and acting like a complete asshole and the whole thing with Meenah and showing up at your place after. I’m sorry for fucking, for saying that I’d _fixed_ things because I was satisfied and that was all that mattered.”

The box is going to leave a deep mark in his forehead as he slumps on it even heavier. “Fuck, Kankri, I am sorry for fucking things up and hurting you.”

His breathing is so loud that Cronus can’t hear anything else for a minute. It’s like he ran a mile, everything pouring out and everything between the words that tears and aches, the memory of Kankri’s face as he shouted and threw him out and how his eyes had already been red from crying.

Finally, he hears Kankri inhale. Cronus holds his breath as he waits for the answer, any answer to him.

“I heard about the crash. I thought you were in jail.”

Cronus’s exhale is a bark of a laugh. Of course, of fucking course Kankri would say something about that instead of any response to his apologies. He didn’t hang up though.

Cronus straightens slightly, easing the pressure on his forehead. “Good behavior, they let me out.”

“Today?”

“Yeah. Got other shit to clear up, but yeah. Not important right now. I’ll get it taken care of.” Cronus rubs his eyes, exhausted beyond belief.

There’s some kind of shuffling on Kankri’s end, but he doesn’t clarify what he’s doing. “It’s raining.”

Cronus arches an eyebrow. “Yeah? I’m not gonna like sprint through the rain. I did everything I had to for today or they wouldn’t have let me out.”

Kankri’s sigh fills his ear, tinny through the pay phone. “You’re just outside, aren’t you? You haven’t really left?”

“Yeaaaaah?” Confused, Cronus draws the word out, looking up again at the asshole sign reminding everyone driving past that you can’t trust _criminals_. He flips it off with one hand. He served his time, _thank you_.

“Good,” Kankri answers and hangs up.

Cronus pulls the phone away and stares at it. After a minute, he starts to laugh in that harsh, broken way where it comes out in bits and pieces and then it’s coughing into sobs.

He lets go of the receiver and slides down the side of the booth until he’s sitting in the bottom, hands clenched in his hair and crying.

He had one fucking shot and this is what he gets. It’s probably what he deserves. He fucked Kankri over, threw everything in his face, and then acted like he was the victim. He got drunk, caused a car accident, fucked up someone else’s life along with his own.

He deserves a short, sharp ‘good’ and the click of a phone gone dead. Nobody’s got any reason to give a shit about him.

Something knocks against the plexiglass, shaking the whole wall, and Cronus about jumps out of his skin. He whirls around, fingers fumbling for the receiver to maybe brain them with.

Unimpressed, the person outside arches an eyebrow.

Kankri looks tired, like he just rolled out of bed with his hair a messy tumble of curls, and his clothes wrinkled. One hand is wrapped around the handle of his umbrella, the other must have knocked against the wall.

Cronus stares at him stupidly, heart pounding like a rabbit’s, and unsure what to do.

Kankri points at the door to the booth and holds his umbrella a little higher. “Come on. I left my car running.” His voice is muffled by the plexiglass, but he sounds warmer than he did over the phone.

His fingers feel like ice as he gets a hand on the door and yanks it open. Kankri’s umbrella carefully covers the gap so he’s not getting dripped on. Cronus steps under it, mouth unable to form words.

Kankri ignores it and starts moving toward the car waiting, and how he didn’t hear it pull up is beyond him. The passenger door sticks before Kankri yanks it open and Cronus itches to fix it, but ducks inside instead. He doesn’t want to waste Kankri’s time.

Umbrella streaming with the rain, Kankri hurries around and climbs in on the driver’s side, tossing his umbrella in the back with little care. When Cronus glances back, he can see a scattered collection of abandoned items ranging from what looks like a pair of snow boots to an old sweatshirt.

He faces forward again and almost gets punched in the nose by Kankri. Cronus starts as Kankri yanks his hand back just in time.

Another arched eyebrow and Kankri holds out his hand, and the cup in it, again. “Here. Black coffee.”

Cronus takes it and breathes in the smell. Fuck, it’s from Kankri’s favorite place and he just knows Kankri’s got a cup of the same and why the _fuck_ is he doing this?

“Because I want to,” Kankri answers the question that was meant to stay in Cronus’s head. “You change the station to pop and I’ll kick you out.”

“Uh, sure, your car after all.” Like he’d ever want to listen to pop after having no access to his favorites.

Kankri nods and takes a sip from his own cup before he starts to drive.

Cronus glances at him and then out at the rain as they leave the grey buildings and sad little phone booth behind.

The radio gets bumped up a notch, but instead of Kankri’s favorites, it’s some soft ballad, the type of thing Cronus would put on a CD for him.

Something in his chest unwinds as they both stare out the windows and watch the rain and the road instead of each other. He doesn’t even think about where they’re going or what this means or what the fuck he’s gonna do next.

Cronus closes his eyes and breathes.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until the car stops and he jerks back to wakefulness. Disoriented, he looks around in confusion, this isn’t his cell, then the seatbelt yanks against his neck and Cronus makes a very attractive gagging noise.

Kankri exhales through his nose and Cronus can’t tell if it’s sadistic amusement or frustration. At any rate, he turns the car off and undoes his own seatbelt. “We’re at my place. You can use my phone and figure out what to do.”

That’s…surprisingly generous for Kankri, open ended where usually he’s firm about a deadline.

Cronus nods because otherwise Kankri will question if prison made him even more of an idiot while he stares at him. ”Sure,” he adds a beat late. “Thanks, Kankri.”

A muscle in Kankri’s jaw twitches, but he just nods and climbs out. Cronus follows suit, mind swirling with tiredness and confusion.

He still doesn’t understand Kankri’s reasoning for this, for helping him, for even showing up to pick him up. Glancing at the shorter man hardly reveals a thing, Kankri’s face always so impassive when he wasn’t sneering at someone.

_Or the way his eyes could light up with happiness, curling his toes into his feet as he tries to hide the snorting sound of his laugh into the sleeve of his sweater._ Cronus shoves the memory away. It’s in the past and it sure won’t be happening again.

Kankri’s keys jingle as he pulls them out, letting them into the apartment building and then up the stairs. Cronus follows silently, hands shoved into his pockets, and acting like he doesn’t still have the way memorized. He kinda can’t believe Kankri didn’t _move_ after everything.

Maybe he’s just overestimating himself and his effect on people again.

Cronus blows a chunk of his hair off his forehead as Kankri unlocks the door. Absent mindedly, he moves his foot further right, just in time to catch the cat trying to dart out.

Gandhi looks at the offending leg in surprise and then Kankri’s got a grip on him and lifts him into his arms. “You’re so terrible that Cronus still remembers to watch for you,” Kankri tells the cat and leads the way inside.

It makes Cronus’s lips twitch. He does remember, of course he does, and Kankri almost sounded pleased. That was probably just for the cat though. Gandhi might be the only creature on earth that Kankri loves unconditionally. Even his _dad_ gets cut off after one too many hugs.

Fuck, he still totally loves Kankri. Which he knows, he’s known that forever, especially sitting in a cell and having nothing else to think on.

What makes it shit _now_ is that he knows exactly how much he fucked it all up and doesn’t deserve it anymore.

 

Wow, he really needs to see a fucking therapist like they suggested.

Cronus’s thoughts have wandered so far away that he doesn’t realize that anything’s happening until Kankri grabs his wrist.

Cronus jumps, yanking on his arm to keep _something_ from happening, but then he realizes it’s Kankri in front of him, not someone who’d try something, nothing physical anyway, and relaxes.

Kankri’s looking at him weirdly, one eyebrow lifted almost to his hairline. “Are you okay?” Like he doesn’t want a real answer, he hurries to continue. “If you keep standing here, Gandhi’s going to make a run for the door. Get in if you’re coming.”

Instead of dropping his wrist, Kankri tugs and Cronus steps inside.

It is exactly the same as Cronus remembers and it makes his throat feel tight.

As if he can sense it, sense the broken pieces of him coming unglued, Kankri keeps a grip on him until they reach the couch. “Sit down,” he orders, not unkindly, and finally lets go. “I’ll…I’ll get something to eat.”

It’s not like Kankri to hesitate and Cronus is feeling more and more off-kilter. He wasn’t expecting any of _this_.

By the time he can think to say thanks, Kankri’s disappeared into the kitchen and Cronus slumps down into the couch. It’s soft and he wants to kick his shoes off and resume his nap, but he’s got shit to do.

Cronus shifts to one end of the couch and pulls out his cell phone, returned to him just before they let him roam the world again. Too bad it’s fucking dead. He reaches down the side of the couch and his fingers find the cord he knew would be there. Kankri is a creature of habit to a fault. He plugs his phone in and sets it down on the side table.

He should…do something, wash his hands or tell Kankri that he can find something to eat later, no need to fucking worry about it.

Gandhi hops up into his lap and kneads his legs a little and Cronus knows he’s not moving a fucking inch. He rubs the cat’s head and is rewarded with a purr that continues as the cat circles around and settles onto his lap.

It makes him smile and he keeps up the petting, letting the repetitive motion relax him.

His phone jangles a start-up tune a few minutes later and Cronus glances over. He doesn’t know what to brace himself for, nothing or too much of everything. He watches the screen, the logo glowing on the flat black until it switches to his lock screen.

He takes a breath and reaches to pick it up, drawing his thumb over the correct pattern, somehow still remembered after these long months.

The second his home screen loads, his phone dances in his hand, texts, multiple texts coming in, and he wants to throw it away until it stops and he’s ready to deal with it.

Gandhi meows, annoyed at the noise and Cronus can’t agree more. He turns it on vibrate and shoves it under a throw pillow to dance itself quiet and keep charging. The vibrating stops after another minute and he sighs in relief.

Footsteps shuffle across the floor and Kankri reappears, a frown on his face and phone in his hand. “I have nothing that’s good in this weather, so I ordered in.”

Cronus can’t help a small smile. “Thanks, Kan. You didn’t have to go that far. I’ll pay you back once I get home.”

Kankri looks up, eyes jumping to the trailing cord that leads behind one of the pillows. One eyebrow lifts and his voice is dry as he says, “Right… They didn’t charge your phone before giving it back to you?”

Cronus shrugs and scratches under Gandhi’s chin. “Not their problem. They gave me the chance to call my parole officer before leaving, did that, and then I found out my phone was dead when I already left.”

“Well, that was foolish.” Kankri plops down in the armchair, pulling his feet up so he can lean against his knees. “Your phone turned back on?”

“Yeah. Apparently, I missed a lot.” The latter is a mutter and he shoots the pillow a look.

Kankri snorts, definitely _snorts_ , and Cronus looks back at him in surprise. “You’ll have to face it eventually. My couch is not going to fit you without back pain.”

Cronus’s mouth opens, but Kankri keeps going.

“Not to mention your clothes and things. Face it soon, Cronus, because I’m not the keeper of your life.” Kankri finishes with a very serious look, bordering on arrogance.

Cronus closes his mouth and nods. “Right, of course. Just gonna let it charge a bit more and then sort it all out.”

Kankri nods and pulls his phone back out. “Good.” He settles into place, swiping up, and done with the conversation.

_God_. What’s worse? Facing Kankri or checking his messages? Cronus would rather face a bear than have Kankri throw him out at this point.

With a very soft sigh, Cronus reaches down behind the pillow and wiggles his phone free. A whole ten percent of battery has been given back and he has…oh god help him, twenty missed texts? Please be old, please be old, please be old.

Praying a new prayer, he taps the icon to open them.

_Fuck_.

Ten are from today, five in the last two hours.

They’re from two different people, both with the surname Ampora.

Cronus sinks a little into the couch like a pouting child. He really doesn’t want to read them. It’s bad enough facing Kankri; he can’t face his little brother and father after what he did.

Unfortunately, it’s not just on him to decide.

His phone starts vibrating in earnest as a call is connected. Eridan never did give up well.

Cronus dares to glance up and Kankri is giving him a pointed look before standing up and giving him space to actually answer it.

With a real shaky sigh, Cronus hits the green button and puts it to his ear.

“Are you _dead_ on the side of the road? How could you leawe without calling me?! Goddammit Cro, this better be you and not whoewer stole your phone after mugging you right outside a prison.” Eridan’s spitting the words almost too fast to process and damn, that summer in Dublin did a number on his accent.

Cronus squeezes the phone and tries not to think about what he sounds like now. “You have to give me a chance to answer. Geez Eri, didn’t anyone teach you manners when you phone up a mugger?”

“Cro! Finally! Where are you? Dad’s losing his mind thinking they just kicked you out into the rain without giving you a chance to get a ride! If you thought you were walkin’ home, you’re a fuckin’ moron.” Eridan sounds winded now, still pissed, but also kinda relieved.

Cronus can kind of fucking relate. He tugs the pillow into his arm and when Gandhi gets up and runs off, he hugs it to his chest. “Same shit as always, I was a moron. They didn’t charge my phone and I thought they would so I was fucked right out of the gate. Someone picked me up though, so no mugging or stabbings or starving for me.”

“Who?”

“Uh, Kankri did.”

“You called _Kankri_ and not us?! Dad’s gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

Cronus lets out a choked little laugh. “Yeah.”

Eridan’s frustrated sigh reaches his ear and he can hear the vague sound of something been shaken in the background. “Whatever, I’ll do a séance with Kar and find out what happened after you’re dead. Can we come get you or are you gonna need a couple hours? You say hours and Dad’s gonna rip the door off in the middle of your little party by the way.”

Cronus snorts. “Sooner’s fine. I’ll text you the address. …I’ll talk to Dad when you guys get here, okay?”

“Yeah. Glad you’re not dead, assface.”

There’s so many things he wants to say, but none seem right over the phone. Cronus swallows a lump and squeezes the pillow again. “Yeah. See you soon, Eri.”

They hang up at the same time, still in sync no matter the years, and Cronus opens all the texts from Eridan. Worry, concern, and frustration pour out of every word that he scrolls through, and his throat gets tighter. He sends Kankri’s address before he can start crying and clicks his phone dark again so he doesn’t have to face any words from his dad.

He feels shaky, off-kilter, but he hasn’t been able to check his mental balance since Kankri appeared outside that phone booth.

Cronus drops his head forward to rest on the pillow. He breathes.

There’s the soft clink of a glass being set down on the side table and the shuffle of Kankri moving to take the chair again.

He inhales and Cronus waits, waits for the anger and harsh words that he’s been braced for since Kankri picked up the line.

“I don’t know what happened, Cronus, not after that night. Now really isn’t the time to talk about it either. But…in the future, I want to talk. When you’re ready.” Kankri’s voice is hesitant, unsure, and each word comes out after consideration, each one weighed and valued until he’s sure they’re right.

Cronus lifts his head enough to peek that way.

Kankri’s mirroring him, hugging one of his legs instead of a pillow, and looking down instead of at him.

It occurs to Cronus for the first time, that he’s not the only one who’s had a while to think about just how things went wrong.

Maybe it’s shitty, but he was pretty sure Kankri didn’t ever do any kind of introspection.

Maybe he’s not the only one who’s been forced to.

Kankri’s waiting for an answer, another oddity that feels like a stair Cronus misjudged the distance on and hit with a thump.

He swallows and inhales. “I didn’t want…to drag it all back up. I didn’t even expect you to fucking talk to me again, heh.” Self-depreciating, not even really a laugh, such a defensive move.

Now brown eyes are looking at him, cautious, please don’t let them be wet; it’s just the light in here.

Cronus keeps going. “And I don’t want to, I don’t deserve to demand shit from you, Kankri. I already made that fucking mistake and believe me, I’m not so stupid that I’d do it again. I just…really wanted to apologize to you. All this is…more than I think I fucking deserve.”

“But I been thinking a lot of things that I need to talk out with someone, someone professional.” He ends that with a real deep sigh. Cronus Ampora loves talking about himself, except when he’s gotta be picked apart, ugh.

Kankri’s lips twitch and then hook up on the left, the side Cronus always thought of as real instead of arrogant. “Well…I can recommend a therapist or two. Like I said…when you’re ready.”

“I still don’t get why you’re doing all this, Kan.” Cronus pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s not ready for this, didn’t prepare himself for people to be worried, to come after him after he fucked up so bad.

Kankri sighs and there’s the annoyance, the ‘really? You’re an idiot,’ sound he’s so familiar with. The smaller man stands and comes over to tap Cronus on the forehead with a finger. “Honestly, didn’t they tell you in prison? You paid for your mistake; now you make up for it and improve. You try not to do it again. That’s what _everyone_ should do. We should all do better.”

Cronus leans back in the couch, still hugging the pillow. But, now his lips are curving up. “Oh? Yeah?”

“Yes. Shockingly enough, Cronus, people care about you enough to want to see you come back from this, to be the person we know you can be.” Kankri rolls his eyes just in time for a knock on the door. “You’re not the only person in the world to ever fuck up.”

He turns to get the door, no doubt their food, and Cronus moves before he can think about, overanalyze, doubt himself like he has for months. He grabs Kankri’s wrist and gives it a squeeze. Kankri turns enough to look at him, his mouth already forming some question.

Cronus beats him to the punch this time. “Thanks for picking me up…and for everything after.”

Kankri blinks once, slowly, and then nods. “Of course, Cronus. I knew you’d only have enough change to call anyone once.”

Cronus laughs, the weight on his chest lifting just slightly, and lets Kankri go get their food.


End file.
